


The Games We Play

by ertrunkener_Wassergeist



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Galahd, Galahdian Culture (Final Fantasy XV), Galahdian Religion, Gen, Invasion, Kingdom of Lucis, Languages and Linguistics, Lucian Culture, Mage!Crowe, Mage!Nyx, Magic, Nifelheimr Culture, Nifelheimr Empire, Politics, This will get dark, Violence, War, Worldbuilding, all the Clans, heed the warnings at the beginnings of the chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-02 09:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ertrunkener_Wassergeist/pseuds/ertrunkener_Wassergeist
Summary: Magic is in flow. Even bound as it is can it still be used to guess and to predict, if one knows how to.What if Galahd had been more cautious after the Conqueror King of Lucis came with his Black Ships to conquer them and nearly won? What if Galahd had had a warning about the invasion to come near two thousand years later? What if Galahd had been prepared?It will be a long fight. A fight no one can see the consequences of.





	1. The Last Day of Solheim

**Author's Note:**

> So, new story. Yay!  
> I know, I know. I'm still working on all of my unfinished ones, but they're taking their sweet time and my brain insisted on this one, so here it is.  
> This work is heavily inspired by Malazan Book of the Fallen (The best book series ever imo. Go check it out) and borrows some of its elements so don't be surprised if something seemes familiar. It probably is^^  
> That said this will be a pretty long work beginning at the time from shortly before Nifelheim's attack on Galahd. The traditional mage system of Final Fantasy remains largely intact with a few extrad added on. Not all chapters will be fast paced and full of epic battles, most won't, in fact. War also means murky politics, so politics this will contain. From Galahdian inter-clan politics, to politics between countries and everything in between. (What can I say? I love fantasy politics.)  
> I will also flesh out the cultures of all participating players. Mainly Galahd, Nifelheim and Lucis, so be prepared for that if the above hasn't already chased you away. ;)  
> Please tell me if I should add something to the story tags. I'm not always sure, if I should tag for something I find relatively minor in written literature.  
> Lastly, English isn't my first language so some of my sentences tend to get quite clunky. I apologize in advance for that. I'm working on it.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter:  
> Mention of child abuse, graphic description of death, implied sexual violence, the last Emperor of Solheim was one sick f*ck  
> (safe for the death nothing of this is on screen so to speak)

The last Emperor of Solheim stared down onto the cards that were laid out on the table made of expensive yellow oak, in intricate design. A fiery sun wheel paired with a death-trail and a war council.

An Emperor had to be foresighted and wise, yes that he had. And this one was wise. Very, very wise. It had been him, after all, that had ordered the High Priest to lay the cards in the way his forefathers had forbidden generations ago.

A wise Emperor also knew his weaknesses and this one knew his only too well. He was weak. He lacked the strength needed to share the splendorous glory of Solheim with the rest of Eos. A goal he had worked towards from the day he had been crowned. Like his father had said after he had beaten him into a bloody pulp for slacking off in his lessons: An Emperor without a lofty goal to strife towards was no Emperor at all but a useless puppet with a crown, and no Emperor of Solheim would be a useless puppet.

And now he saw the fruits of his long and arduous labour spread out on the table in front of him. His lifework.

The Emperor's gaze wandered from the cards towards the High Priest who looked at him with impossibly wide eyes, pale beneath his caramel coloured skin. His eyes reminded the Emperor of two dull puddles of honey. Without any intelligence to speak of. He ought to know. His father had cured him of that affliction, after all. The thought was amusing and he had to suppress the silly giggle bubbling in his throat. Emperors didn't giggle. And it might chase the poor High Priest away as if the Shadows themselves were after him.

This had to stay a secret. Yes, yes, it had to. The glory of Solheim would not be diminished by something like this. Least of all now, when new lands had been found far to the west. It could be naught else but a gift from Eos herself to him. Despite her long absence had the Lady of the Heavenly Bodies acknowledged his greatness.

He would send ships. Yes, an armada of ships with his best trained slaves to settle the land and show the barbarians there what actually constituted as civilized living. Those who refused to accept Solheims superiority would be killed or broken and taken to task as the building force to erect grand palaces in his honour. Pleasure pulsed in his loins at that thought and he licked his suddenly dry lips.

He blinked as the man next to him shuffled in a growing panic, his mouth opening and closing as he jabbered on and on about something he didn't care to hear.

Ah, yes. The secret, yes.

Without sparing further thought about it or considering the consequences, he drew the dagger that, despite its ceremonial function, was still razor-sharp and rammed it into the High Priest's chest, right between his tattooed ribs and into his heart. Or at last close to. The Emperor didn't really care.

Fascinated he watched the High Priest's face grow slack, watched how his eyes went comically wide and his mouth opened and closed as if it belonged to a fish gasping for water on dry land.

Blood dripped down the no more flawless blade in small rivulets and onto the hand that gripped it. The Emperor pulled it from the hunk of flesh – and that was all that the High Priest was now, he thought with sick pleasure pooling between his legs, a dead piece of flesh. He fell towards the ground, landing with a hollow thunk in an ungraceful heap. For some reason that greatly displeased the Emperor. Death should be... be this. He kicked the piece of dead flesh with his naked foot until sightless eyes stared at him. They were even duller than before. A murky colourless something that didn't have an ounce of Solheimr grace.

If that was his innermost self, then he was glad he had killed the High Priest. Such a dirty nothingness didn't belong in his radiant Empire.

With a satisfied grin he cleaned the dagger on the floor-length toga the dead piece of flesh still wore and sheathed it back it his hip where it belonged.

_A secret only stays a secret, if all but one who know are dead._

Solheim would stay great and radiant. No, it would grow even greater and more radiant. The Emperor wanted it so, and if an Emperor wanted something it would happen.

Now for the evidence. To leave evidence of a secret behind would only spell disaster. He stared at the cards on the table again. Ifrit upside down inside the fiery sun wheel, Eos at the head of the death-trail and Bahamut at the centre of the war council. And over all loomed the Gates, the Meteor and a card depicting glowing butterflies and writhing darkness. This would not do. This would not do at all. With one fell swoop of his arms the cards, painstakingly carved from ivory, clattered onto the ground, over and around the dead piece of flesh.

The Emperor nodded, satisfied with his work, and adjusted his crown that wound in stylized flames and sunbeams around the back of his head and down the sides of his face. He hummed a senseless tune as he exited the room, ordering the nearest slave to lock the door and not step or look inside. This would be his secret, and his alone. The Emperor alone would be allowed to indulge in it whenever he pleased.

There was much to do, very much indeed. A conquest to plan and games to hold to keep the mindless sheep satisfied. But first he would claim the service of one of his pleasure slaves, or maybe two or three, to relieve the tightness in his loins.

* * *

Back in the room the Emperor had ordered shut – and indeed no living person would ever step into its walls ever again – with its lofty ceiling and open round arches looking towards the Sun Tower where the imperial family resided, laid the poor man that had been the last High Priest of Ifrit, dead eyes gazing upon the opulently painted ceiling.

Cards laid scattered around him. The only ones still facing up were The King of Fire, the Meteor, the Gates and the ever-devouring Parasite of Pitioss.

The flow of the future had been determined. Tomorrow Solheims eternal glory would burn in Ifrit's wrathful flames.


	2. Laying of the Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winter is harder than anybody could have expected, forces align to archieve an unknown goal and a group of people is gathered to determine what to do next and the roles they'll have to play in what is to come.
> 
> Warnings for this Chapter:  
> mention of people freezing

After the fresh and biting cold winds outside the smoky air inside the kitchen of the small cottage that had been built many years ago at the edge of the village, caused Nyx' eyes to burn and his throat to itch. He blinked a few times to make out the other people in the room within the flickering light, the fire burning in the hearth the only source of light, their number higher than he had expected, considering what was to happen this evening.

There were seven people in the crammed room already, making the stuffy air even worse. Nyx felt his head swim at the smell of burning herbs and spices, wet fur, burning wood and unwashed bodies. The plumping had frozen about a week ago, causing some people to whisper that the white she-demon was wandering about again. In Nyx' opinion there would be a whole lot of frozen dead people right about now, if that were true, but he did the smart thing and kept his mouth shut. Let the people talk. That way they would have something to do over the winter that promised to be longer and harder than ususal.

He knew about half of the people here at least by face if not by name. The others were most likely either of the Watcher Clans or from one of the more western islands. The people there kept even more to themselves than the _Galahkari_ did anyways.

Nyx lifted his dominant hand horizontally up to his collarbones in a general greeting, not really in the mood to more people than he absolutely had to. He should be at home right now with his mother and sister, helping to keep the house from cooling out or helping in the forge, seeing as that was the warmest place they had right now.

“Nyx,” he heard Crowe's voice from the corner to his right.

She, like everybody else safe for the mistress of the house and her apprentice, was still buried under thick layers of wool and furs against the freezing winter howling outside, battering the village with a gale of snow. Her cheeks were flushed from a mix of cold and the sudden heat in the kitchen but even then he could see her pallor underneath it. Despite her many layers of clothing he could see how tense she was.

“You too?” he said in a low voice when he stepped closer to her.

Crowe sent him a dark look. She wanted to be here as much as he was. Which was to say not at all.

Nevertheless he tugged at a strand on her long brown hair until she complied and leaned her forehead against his own. They stayed that way for the span of one breath before Crowe stepped away again. Nyx ignored the looks that action got him and grinned unabashedly at his friend. She huffed in fond exasperation, thankfulness lurking in the depth of her brown eyes. He wondered how the last week had been treating her. The heating at her place had always been shitty, but now it had to be even worse. Neither his mother or Selena would be upset if he were to invite her to stay for the rest of the winter. Another helping hand was always welcome, but she clearly wasn't in the mood to talk right now either, so he just stood next to her in companionable silence.

Sweat started to pool at the small of his back and formed beads along the arch of his brow. The stuffy and smoky air that smelled of burned herbs, was nigh unbearable. Nyx wanted very badly to open one of the windows to be able to breath, consequences be damned.

“You better not be doing that, boy. Elder Rhea will tan your hide if you take one step towards the windows, and she'll not be without help,” grumbled a burly man with a barrel chest and a deep voice that sounded like the rumble deep in the mountains.

“Chief Ostium,” Nyx greeted with a nod of respect that could be nearly taken as a bow.

“Cut that out, Ulric,” scowled the older man. His heavy brow, the thick beard and the long salt and pepper hair made it only more impressive. “You're a man grown now and a chief yourself. Start acting like it. People won't be as tolerant as they were when you were nine.”

Nyx resisted the urge to duck his head like a chastised boy, like he had done so often before, when this man had caught him and Libertus doing something stupid again. Murus Ostium nodded, his gold flecked blue eyes grew warmer as he patted Nyx' fur clad shoulder once. Unbidden, he felt himself stand up straighter despite Crowe's scoff. Murus didn't even spare her a glance.

“Come and greet Elder Rhea. No need to be impolite to an Aware One in her own home.”

With that he guided Nyx away from Crowe, whose eyes flashed with an old hurt Nyx would have loved to soothe, if he only knew how to. Libertus and him had met her too late for that.

Elder Rhea Etas stood by the hearth, bowed over an earthen bowl filled with smoldering sage, roasting _cino_ nuts and _druhm_ roots standing on a cooking grate. She hummed a tuneless melody while her gnarly fingers rummaged through the pockets of her layered wool dress. Her smile showed her crooked teeth and deepened her wrinkles when she saw them approaching. Or rather him being pushed by the older chief.

“Ah, Chief Ulric. Welcome to my home. May the fires warm you and the white she-demon not steal you or your loved ones during the night.”

Nyx made himself answer that smile as he crossed his wrists in the traditional greeting. “Thank you for letting me step into the light of your hearth. May it keep you warm during long nights and dark days.” The smell coming from the earthen bowl over the fire brought tears into his eyes and made him want to gag. He swallowed dryly. It made it only worse.

“Take a seat, young Chief and take part in the meal. Soon we will begin.”

The young man nodded and forced his questions down. He had no idea why he had been invited to a flow laying of all things. They were for people with power, influence important destinies – mystic heroes during times of old - and while he wished he could be someone like that, he doubted that he was such a person now. Some of the other participants also didn't make a lick of sense to him.

A young man, clearly of the Lazarus Clan with his blond hair and pale skin, sat at the table and frowned into a steaming cup. Nyx' eyebrows shot up in surprise. The Lazarus' seldom came out of their little conclave in Tenebrae. Especially after they had brought news of Tenebrae's conclusive conquest by Nifelheim and their slaying of the Oracle a few years ago. Next to him sat a woman he didn't know with sandy brown hair twisted into thick braids that wound around her head like a crown. A bit ostentatious in his opinion, but who was he to judge another clan's braids? She was talking to Elder Istoria Patientia, one of the few people he knew from the westernmost islands, who sat at one end of the table. The old woman had made it her mission to travel all over Galahd to _keep the stories alive and well_ , as she said.

Nyx finally shed his furs and the outer layers of his clothing until he was down to a knitted jumper, his mother had made for him, his pants and his boots, and carefully laid it all over the back of the chair across from the Lazarus Clan member that had to be around his age. Him, Crow and Nyx were clearly the youngest people here. Now the heat in the room wasn't as oppressive and he could breathe a bit easier. Crowe claimed the chair to his left, looking even more uncomfortable than she had when he had come in. She was the first Nameless One to take part in a flow laying in a few hundred years.

At last he had stories to tell him what to expect from this. Ulrics had been part of this every few generations since the Clan had been founded. But her...

The leaden wight in his gut only grew, so he went straight for the _fumir_ and also poured his best friend a cup of the steaming beverage. Without saying a word they drank a deep gulp. It nearly scorched his tongue and the stronger than expected spices made him blink the tears from his eyes before some of the other people in the room noticed. Crowe sent him an amused smirk, the traitor.

“Don't worry too much about it,” he whispered, leaning towards her, “The stories say that all you have to do is sit still and watch. The Aware One will do everything else.”

“Well, it's not like you have ever been to something like this either,” she hissed back, clearly agitated over her own ignorance.

The sound of a door opening and closing made them and the other people in the kitchen go silent and look up. Elder Rhea's apprentice, whose name he didn't know, flushed red in embarrassment at the attention she received. She carried a heavy looking wooden box in her arms. It was covered in elaborate carvings of the Galahdian jungle and the sea and was around one and a half handspans high and two long. She carefully set it down at the end of the table where two empty chairs stood and sat down on one of them.

The other guests also settled down, the plate in the middle of the table that had been stacked full of nuts and dried meats now empty, and a tense silence settling over the group. For a short moment Nyx let his eyes wander. Everybody seemed to be as tense as he was despite their best efforts to hide it. The young hunter could practically smell the nervousness in the air.

Finally Elder Rhea stepped away from the bowl over the hearth. Nyx followed her every move with keen eyes as her gnarly fingers opened the box, its well oiled hinges not making a single sound. Within, he knew, lay the cards with which this game would be played, even if it was a game in name only and that, too, just barely.

The fire crackled ominously as she pulled a surprisingly large stack of cards out of the box. All of them were made of thin wooden plates the length of his hand, one side painted in vibrant colours, the other bare. Some of the cards were older than Galahd, his mother had said, while others were as young as to have been made only a few years ago. The river was forever in flux and so cards came and went.

On his left Crowe was gripping her cup so hard he feared she would break it. He took another fortifying gulp from his own. The spicy alcohol spread its warmth quickly and made his face flush even more.

Elder Rhea put the cards into two neat stacks, face down. Her apprentice pulled out a pen and a stiff sheet of paper, her chair the one furthest away from the table. Nyx assumed she wouldn't take part in the game then.

“Thank you all for following my call. Strange things are afoot. This winter is far colder than many of its precursors. The magicks are restless and unsettled and all of you gathered here have to play a part in what is to come.”

Another short silence followed. Nyx shared one last glance with Crowe. Then, without further ado, the Elder picked up the first card from the stack closest to her and laid it on the table with an audible click. Nyx stared at the image. The only clear features he could discern were a pair of sickly yellow eyes on black and a too wide grin full of sharp teeth. The rest was hidden behind a screen of smoky grey, but he thought he could see the black spots of scourge marring a human face. The card practically oozed savage satisfaction and a sick desire for blood and vengeance that made something within Nyx bristle in defense. He shook his head. The alcohol must be getting to his head already.

“The Herald of the Starscourge,” muttered Elder Rhea just loud enough for all to hear.

Nyx couldn't tear his eyes away from it but he could still hear the hissed breaths the others took. The Starscourge cropped up on their isles every few years. Just a few cases, mind, but still enough for all _Galahkari_ to learn what to do if one were to meet one of the scourge-sick. Which, in essence, boiled down to giving them a quick and painless death.

He wondered if there would be another outbreak, worse than there had been for many generations. Nyx had heard of the rising numbers of scourge-sick on the mainland, which was not only, but in part, because the last Oracle had been slain by the Nifelheimr Empire.

“He is the one who will put what is to come in motion, who will guide a great number of the players involved. With or without them knowing has no bearing upon it.”

A second card was picked up and gently laid down next to the first. This one depicted a softly glowing crystal in the form of a heart, wrapped in chains.

“The Chained Heart,” Elder Rhea said, her eyebrows raised in something resembling astonishment. “An opponent to the Herald but not an enemy. At least part of their goals align and lead towards the same outcome.”

The third card was laid horizontally across the first two. It showed a figure all of them knew and none of them liked.

Bahamut.

Self proclaimed King of the Astrals and all around pain in the ass. His tries to conquer them through the Kingdom of Lucis had made the _Galahkari_ hate him even more than they already had after the Astral War. Nyx had to suppress the irrational urge to bare his teeth at the card.

“King of the Sword, Bahamut. Master of the actions taken by the Herald and the Chained Heart. What his own agendas are remains murky in the flow.”

Elder Rhea reached for the first stack again – Nyx wondered what the second was for – to pick up the third card in the laying but then something happened. Later Nyx couldn't say what it had been and neither could any of the other attendees he had asked afterwards. Maybe it had been a slight of hand, maybe a slip of old and tiring fingers, maybe her apprentice had jostled her as she wrote down what had already been laid out. Whatever the case, the intended card flew from her hand and slid over the edge of the table where it landed face down in a loud clatter of wood on wood. Instead another was shown.

The wooden card clattered onto the table, out of order and too far to the left, the sound reverberating through the smoke filled room like gun shots. It did so with a wight that couldn't be natural. For a moment none of the participants sitting around the table moved. Nyx felt his muscles tense up and the fine hairs on his neck stand on end as Elder Rhea leaned towards the fallen card, the beads of her gently swinging braids clinking against each other.

“The Black Ships,” she whispered hoarsely into the deathly silence.

Nyx felt lightheaded as his blood fled from his head. Suddenly any influence, the alcohol may have had, vanished. He looked at the Lazarus across from him, who sat head bowed and clenched fists trembling. The card of the Black Ships laid nearest to him. Their black sails and hulking hulls promising death and suffering.

The _gisdrauhti_ said this card had come into existence when the Conqueror King of Lucis had come to take their lands in the name of his patron God. It was one of those stories that had scared him witless as a young child, but he had only _understood_ it as he had grown into his teenage years. The Black Ships only represented bloody invasion, death and pain and deep sorrow, that would be remembered until the end of their days for his people.

A thin and calloused hand clutched his in a death grip under the table.

The near silent clinking of wood against wood made him look towards the Elder who picked up a new card, from the second stack this time he noted, with trembling fingers. Her mouth was pressed into a bloodless line. She seemed to stare into thin air for a few moments as all others, including Nyx, held their breath. The grip on his hand grew even tighter. His own grip was just as strong.

Gently, Elder Rhea laid it down in front of the Lazarus. Nyx could practically see the relief wafting off of the blond. Leaning forward, he breathed a tremendous sigh of relief himself in tandem with Murus Ostium next to him.

There, facing the Black Ships that sailed in a stormy sea, was the Watcher of the Hunt.

They would be warned.

Thank the ancestors and the spirits of the jungle.

_They would be warned._

“Thank _ahtrii_ ,” whispered someone across the table. Nyx didn't know who it had been. Nor did he care.

“It seems we have much to prepare for. Dire times lie ahead of us. Dire times, indeed. What needs to be determined now is what role each of you will play in what is to come,” said Elder Rhea, her normally calm voice a tight curl of tension Nyx had never heard before.

More cards were laid out. This time in front of the people sitting around the table.

_Orfefs, Father of the Hunt._

The woman with the braids wrapped around her head.

_Priestess of Fire._

Elder Istoria Patientia.

_Witch of the Hunt._

Crowe the Nameless.

_Mage of the Wilderness._

Himself.

_Wall of the Wooden Throne._

Murus Ostium.

_Ship of the Hunt._

The man with red hair and Solheimr golden eyes that hadn't said a word until now.

Nyx had no idea what any of this meant but when he looked down at the card in front of him, at the man with the coeurl eyes, the wild grin, naked, safe for the white fur wrapped around him, he couldn't help but feel a rightness that scared him down to his core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks. Thanks for reading! :)  
> To clear one thing up: flow laying stricktly speaking is not a way to tell the future in the way of 'this is what will happen', but more in the way of getting a feel of the lay of the land so to speak and then the person laying the cards has to interpret what will happen from that point. What the cards show is basically the desicions being made by the people/beings able to shape the happenings of the world and potential consequences coming from those desicions. Does that make sense?  
> And were already taking a deep plunge into Galahdian traditions and culture. Some things will differ from my Born Into the Wilds story, but the principles will stay the same.
> 
> 'Till next time!


	3. Ice and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolutions are made.
> 
> Warnings for the chapter:  
> none.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again LightsaberWeildingDalek for your help! :)
> 
> Foreign terms used:  
> nangira = term an apprentice uses for their mentor; literal translation: she-knowing  
> mahir = mother; woman who raised me (endearment)  
> fumir = alcoholic drink made of fermented milk and spices  
> gekkani = bear like creature native to Galahd  
> ahtrii (plural to ahtri) = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors

After the visitors had left the kitchen, it seemed so much more spacious, the air easier to breathe, as if somebody in that group carried a miasma that had poisoned the room to the point where even the cleansing smoke hadn’t been able to banish it completely. Rhea took one of the _cino_ nuts that had roasted in the bowl, cracked it and plucked it into her mouth. At once a foul and metallic taste filled her mouth. She grimaced and spit it into the fire.

Gluttonous blackness and purulent blood.

“ _Nangira_?”, asked her young apprentice, her tone filled with worry.

Rhea regarded her for a moment, how she sat there at the table, her chart spread out in front of her to copy down where the cards had fallen. She was still so young, Rhea thought, with wide grey eyes and Solheimr dark skin, having just barely arrived in her adult years. _Then again, to me almost every person can be considered young._

“It’s nothing, apprentice. Finish your work so we can clean up and go to bed. My old bones yearn for rest.”

“Of course, _nangira_ ,” mumbled her apprentice and bend over her chart again.

The scratching of her pen was nearly swallowed by the roaring of the fire as Rhea dumped the contents of the earthen bowl into the flames. Her apprentice flinched but diligently continued with her work. For the first time this evening Rhea took her cane and used it to relieve some pressure off her aching joints. Her gnarly fingers gripped it like a vice as she hobbled her way over the window. It was an old and simple thing for an equally old and simple house, and now, against everything that should be done, she pushed it open to let the cold inside. Tairo Impetrit, her apprentice, let out a shocked cry.

“Always remember,” Rhea said, turning Tairo’s attention back to her, “that this kind of cold can kill you. Be wary of it, don’t let yourself be lulled into its promise of a restful sleep, for it will steal your warmth in a futile attempt to keep it for itself. However, despite how heavy it is with the white she-demon’s magic, this cold is also able to clean away certain things that shouldn’t be let to fester.”

Tairo stared at her with wide eyes, before she nodded and hurriedly finished her chart. Rhea hid a smile. What she had said was true, but the cold had also the desired side effect to hurry things up quite nicely when it came to youthful idleness.

“I’m finished, _nangira_.”

“Good. Close the window, extinguish the fire and scatter the ashes outside the house. I trust you remember how to do that?”

Her apprentice’s cheeks coloured, of embarrassment or the cold, Rhea couldn’t quite tell, as the girl hurried to do as she was told. Her Tairo was quite sensitive to the currents that flowed around them unseen, but any other ability she may possess was executed much less delicately, one could say. 

The Elder waited until Tairo had lit a handful of candles and left the room with a bucket full of too dark ash she unconsciously held as far away from her body as she could, before she started to pick up the flow cards. She started with the last one she had lain down. It was her own. 

The Shadow of Fire. 

The artist had chosen a humanoid form crowned with winding horns. Ifrit Infernian, Maker of Pyres and Burner of Nations, was stirring and watching them. Watching her.

She walked around the table, picking up the cards in the order she had laid them down, until she came to a stop in front of the card that still laid face down on the floor. With a quiet groan the old woman bent down. The card felt unnaturally cool to her gnarled fingers, just like The Shadow of Fire had felt like holding her hand over a newly made flame. Cards connected to the Astrals did that. Rhea resisted the urge to spit out. Those creatures had no business in meddling with human affairs. As if to contradict her belief, did the card in her hand sent another wave of coldness into her fingers. She shuddered. She didn’t need to turn the card around to know which it was. 

Queen of Ice.

Without giving it the satisfaction at having been recognized, Rhea stuffed it into one of the deep pockets of her dress and picked up the next one. 

The Black Ships.

There were stories about how this card had once depicted a meteor, about how it had changed all on its own shortly before the Conqueror King had come to their shores. She wasn’t sure if they believed them.

No one had seen it coming, had expected that card to ever come up again. Not even her. She sent a quick prayer of thanks to every spirit and ancestor that was responsible for unveiling what the white she-demon had been trying to hide. Galahd was not so easily deceived as the rest of the world seemed to think they were.

Her eyes wandered to the triumvirate at the centre of the table. Two of them unwillingly bound by the third party. Those three were at the heart of it all. The King of the Sword felt like cold steel to her hands and for the fraction of a second she had a ringing in her ears that sounded like clangour of weapons and armour and the screams of dying people. She shuddered.

Hard times were coming. But whatever plan that Astral had, Galahd would not bow to it. That was as certain as the turning of the seasons.

* * *

Hot air caressed Alyxa Utris' skin as she stoked the fire, with the heavy poker in her calloused hand. It was stuffy within the large room of the smithy, and smelled of metal mixed with sweat, wet fur and, strangely enough, cabbage. It was also the warmest room in her house next to the kitchen at the moment. She couldn't waste precious fire wood or coals for keeping the whole house warm. It just wasn't feasible if the winter continued to be as hard as it was now.

Maybe there was truth in their words when the others whispered about the white she-demon, come again to finally finish what she had started so long ago. A frown darkened her face at the thought. It had to be the reason why Elder Rhea Etas had called for a flow laying during this time, at the Day of Winter's Heart. She swallowed the wet cough building in her throat and determinedly continued to will the flames to grow hotter.

It was getting late. Uncomfortably late for people to still be outside and her son still hadn't come home. Alyxa prayed to Enias the Pathfinder that he may guide Nyx back home safe and sound, she prayed to the Snake that shed Spring that he may not freeze in the cold, and she prayed to the Great Coeurl that none of her beasts may find their way into the village tonight. It was the best she could do for him, since his Clan was not hers.

The next wave of coughs surprised her. They forced her to abandon her task as she doubled over, in a futile attempt to force air into her lungs. Rattling breaths sounded in the warm room, bordering on hot. She was just glad that neither Nyx nor Selena had seen her coughing fit. There was enough to worry about these days and that didn't include her failing health.

Once she felt her breath returning to something approximating normal, she forced herself to stand up straight despite the pain radiating in her chest like a dying star and spit the mucus that had accumulated in her mouth, into the roaring fire where it evaporated in an aggressive hiss.

May the fires keep her secret.

The front door opened and closed again. Running steps sounded in the hall followed by muted voices. Alyxa picked the poker up again that had clattered on the ground when the coughing fit had overwhelmed her and continued in her self-made task of stoking the fire. There was still much to do in the house, but if the snow held, like she was certain it would, then there would be enough time for it in the coming days.

“ _Mahir_!”, called Selena as she pushed the door to the smithy open. “Nyx is back and he brought Crowe with him.”

Alyxa looked at the bright grin her teenage daughter sported and could not help but answer it with one of her own. The deep knot of worry in her stomach that was always there when one of her children left the house in this bone deep coldness, started to loosen and vanished when she saw her son gently pushing his sister aside to enter the room. Alyxa set the poker down and stepped forward to embrace her son. He met her halfway. His smile had the same mischievous tilt it always held but there was something hiding in the shadows of his eyes – so much like his late father's – that made her worry all over again. Gently she touched his forehead with hers.

“Thank the ancestors, you came back safe, little Ni,” she said and stepped back.

“ _Mahir_ , please,” complained her son as he made a face.

She laughed a little louder than necessary to clear the cough from her lungs. Her eyes wandered to Crowe who stood in the doorway like she didn't quite know what to do with herself, but valiantly tried to hide it. The poor girl looked as bedraggled as the last time Alyxa had truly talked to her. It had been on the last days of harvest when Crowe had helped Nyx to sell some of the furs he had accumulated during his hunts and had gotten one as payment. A big one in mottled greys and browns from a _gekkani_ , if Alyxa remembered correctly.

“Thank you for allowing me into your home. May your fires never die during the dark and cold,” said Crowe when she saw her attention was on her and crossed her wrists in greeting.

“It’s good to see you again, Crowe. May you be welcome to the warmth of my fires for as long as you need,” she smiled and gently bumped her fist against one of Crowe’s in an old smith’s greeting. “Come you two, sit down by the fire. You must be cold. Selena, be a dear and bring them some _fumir_ to warm them up, would you?”

“No _fumir_ , please. My head’s still swimming from the stuff over at Elder Rhea’s,” grouched Nyx.

“You drank one lousy cup, Nyx,” said Crowe with a grin and sat down on the stool next to him.

“Well, not everybody can have your tolerance for alcohol, oh mighty mistress of spices and milk. Ouch! _Ahtrii_ , Crowe! Stop that.”

The young woman shot her son an unimpressed look as she retracted her elbow from his side. Alyxa suppressed another laugh. She feared this one would lead to another coughing fit. She could feel it in the back of her throat. Once the snow let up a bit she would need to see the doctor.

“Tea then,” she said and cast Selena a look who huffed but went without complaint, her long, dark brown hair trailing behind her. “How did it go?”, she asked once she was sure that her daughter was indeed in the kitchen preparing tea and not standing outside and listening in. This was not something she needed to hear, yet.

Nyx and Crowe shared a look, a thousand and one words passing between them. Alyxa felt dread pool in her stomach. She had hoped, oh how had she hoped that the flow laying would just concern the winter, for it to help determine what held the freezing cold over their isles like a white shroud of death.

Death was not supposed to be white.

“It started well, I think, but then…”, Nyx swallowed and clenched his teeth. The muscles in his jaw jumped in agitation. 

Alyxa stepped forward and took her son’s hands within hers. “Nyx. What happened?”

“Black Ships,” he whispered barely audible.

She felt herself recoil as if she’d been hit. She swallowed, the insistent scratching at the back of her throat forgotten for the moment. Nyx jumped up to help her sit on the stool he had just vacated, his worried blue eyes the only thing grounding her in reality.

_Black Ships. Oh, ahtrii, please no. This cannot be happening. Why? Why now, after so long? Will Lucis steal my children now after they took my husband and sister? No. They won’t. I won’t let that happen, not again. The Witch in her Hollow Tree with all her crows and Naga’s kin will die before I’ll let it. May Kyriakos give me the strength to do what must be done, to make sure my children survive what will come._

The despair she felt was suddenly overshadowed by the white hot fury that pierced through her very being. “When?”, she heard herself say.

“What?”, askes Nyx and froze in his fretting over her.

“When will Lucis come and try again to destroy everything we have ever built?” _When will they come to kill us all_ , she didn’t say, but was understood nonetheless. 

Nyx’ gaze wandered over to Crowe again whose worry was carved deeper into her face than it had any right to be at that age. Alyxa felt the sudden urge to hug the young woman to give her some semblance of comfort, but she held herself back, didn’t quite dare to do it. Despite the fondness she felt for her, Crowe was still a Nameless One and there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed.

“ _Mahir_ , it’s not… the Black Ships, the life-threatening danger to us all, won’t come from Lucis, but from the west. When the card fell down it faced the member of the Lazarus Clan that was there, not the Drautos woman. Lucis won’t do anything. Or if they do, it won’t be of any consequence to us.”

“The west,” she repeated feeling her fury lessen until it was a weakly glowing ember in the fire of her soul. Still there, but unnoticeable at the moment. 

“Yes, exactly. Niflheim will come for us like they finally came for the last independant region of Tenebrae.”

In one sudden move Alyxa stood up, forcing her son to take two steps back, and walked towards the back of her smithy. There was much to do. She did not doubt the result that had come from the flow laying, only an idiot with a death wish would do that, and Alyxa liked to think that she was neither of those things.

“Nyx? What’s wrong with _mahir_?”

When had Selena come back from the kitchen? She forced her attention away from the cabinet where all her tools were stored that currently weren’t in use, and looked up. Selena stood there a tray with a steaming pot of tea, four cups and a small plate of honeyed wheat cookies in her hands. The teenager’s gaze wandered from her to Nyx and Crowe and back again, her face darkened by a confused frown.

“She’s alright, Ella. I just told her I’ve seen a Lazarus on the island. You know how _mahir_ gets when she hears something surprising,” answered Nyx a little too nonchalant. 

Despite it all, did Alyxa have to hide an amused smile as Selena shot Nyx a disbelieving look that was quickly replaced by a dark stare. 

“Don’t call me Ella,” she hissed and set the tray down a little too forceful. 

“But it’s part of your name.”

“Aaww. Does our little Ni want a hug from his dear sister?”, said Crowe in an overly sweet voice and patted him on the head like one would a dog.

Nyx battered her hand away and scowled at both of them as they laughed. He managed to hold that face for a few moments longer before that scowl turned into a satisfied grin, causing Alyxa to smile. Carefully, she closed the tool cabinet again and stepped towards the children having fun despite the situation. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would start her preparations, fix the tools that needed to be fixed and look about getting the necessary materials to help in the coming conflict the best way she knew how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada!  
> Nyx' family deserves more love.  
> I hope you like the original characters and had fun reading.  
> 'Til next time :)


	4. White on White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a hunting trip and a coeurl comes to visit.  
> Featuring: cup noodles, the start of an inside joke and the enthusiasm os a not-so-small kitten.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter:  
> mentions of freezing and animals being field dressed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of: I have no idea about hunting practices and kind of stumbled my way through that part with one or two vague google searches. So be warned for any inaccuracy you'll find. And thank you again LightaberWieldingDalek for your help :)
> 
> Cultural information:  
> Wooden Throne = Throne cut out from the stump of one of the first trees that were cut down when Galahd was being settled. Nobody sits on it. It was made as a sign of respect towards the islands and a symbol that no one reigns over them.
> 
> Words in Hadnissa:
> 
> galahkari = people of Glahad  
> mahir = mother; woman who birthed me; affectionate form  
> bamohn = hot spice native to Galahd, tastes a bit like curry  
> ahtri = Spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors  
> cino = a kind of nut that comes very close to a walnut  
> ehrati = minor spirits like will-o'-the-wisps, like to play pranks and lead people astray

“So, you gonna tell me what’s got Murus's furs all in a twist since you all got invited to that fancy card game?”

Libertus' voice sounded strangely echoing surrounded by all that snow. Covered in thick winter clothes lined in tan and light grey fur, his form seemed even more heavy set and taller than it usually was. Despite that he was surprisingly agile on his snowshoes.

For a moment Nyx simply concentrated on hiding their bigger sled in the hunting camp they had stayed in during the night. His breath came in thick white clouds that drifted away on the cold winds. Nyx was surprised that Libertus had waited until the second day of their hunting trip to ask that question.

They had gone out after the snow had stopped falling. The clouds were a teal grey hanging low in the sky, heavy with the promise of more snow. Nyx wanted out of the house, not only because the food was running low and the ferry from the mainland hadn't come again, but also to escape his mother's frenzied actions to repair any and all of her seldom used tools. She even sent Selena out with Crowe to watch over her to buy more ore and steel. Much to Selena’s excitement. 

Nyx understood that they needed to be as prepared as possible before the threat the Black Ships represented came upon their shores, but they couldn't start with that until the snows started to melt. Not truly. The  _ Galahkari  _ always preserved as much food as possible but it wouldn't be enough to get them through a long series of battles. They would need patrols on their western borders, new weapons and armour. A way to defend against airships.

An actual  _ plan _ .

They didn't even know when or how the Nifs - there was no doubt in Nyx that the threat was Niflheim - would come. Only that they would. While that knowledge was certainly enough to rile all of Galahd up for battle – even the isolated mountain clans he would imagine– it wasn't enough to fight and win.

Him, a mage. Right. What was he supposed to do? Lead a pack of coeurls into battle? He nearly snorted in amusement at that image.

“Eos to Nyx. You there?”

Nyx jerked in surprise as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He whirled around, and bid his rapidly beating heart to slow down again. There stood Libertus with a barely hidden look of worry on his face. The shawl he would cover the lower part of his face with, to guard it from the cold hung loosely around his neck.

“Damn it, big guy. Did you want me to have a heart attack?”

“ You've been staring at the sled without blinking even once. What by the Wooden Throne is bothering you? Is your  _ mahir  _ sick again?” Libertus squinted at him in the way he always did when he was really worried about him.

Nyx sighed. With one last glance he deemed the sled hidden enough and slid into his overcoat. They had slept the night in a hut that had been halfway built into a small cave. Here the snow wasn't nearly as deep as in the village but still enough to sink in to the knees, if it weren't for their snowshoes.

“How much has Murus told you about the flow laying?” he asked, while they stepped out of the cave.

They had already packed everything they might need during this outing onto the smaller sled. This hunter's camp would be their headquarters for the duration of their trip.

“ You know how Murus is. He hasn't told anyone anything since he came back, not even his own  _ mahir _ . Been chewing on it in his head, and once he comes to a decision he'll tell us, but it's never been this extreme,” grunted Libertus and started to drag the sled along behind him.

It was mostly empty right now, but Nyx hoped they would manage to hunt enough to need it. They set out, snow crunching with each step, the sound strangely muffled.

Nyx snorted softly beneath the scarf hiding half his face. That sounded like Murus, all right. That man was slow like a _garula_ was most of the time thinking about something, until he had made up his mind about it. Then he was like a _sahagin_ that had tasted blood in the water. It was quite fascinating to watch, as long as you weren't in the way, that was.

“It was... unexpected,” Nyx eventually settled on. That was quite the tame way to put it, he realized.

“That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“You're not going to tell me, are you?” asked Libertus as they started to climb a small hill.

“ No way am I making Murus mad at me because I told you something like that before he finished thinking it over. Just... we have time, okay? Nothing will happen before the snows have melted.”  _ I hope. _

“May the spirits make your words come true, Nyx. You’re shit at making people worry less,” grunted Libertus.

After that they spent the day until it was time for lunch largely in silence, only communicating in the hand signs that hunters were prone to use when prey was near. They had killed two big snow hares and two chickatrices by the time they decided to stop to eat. As far away from where they had killed the chickatrices as they could manage, as they didn't want a furious mama cockatrice after them. It was much more than they thought they would manage to do during the whole trip. It also meant that the both of them were able to get home at least a day earlier than they thought they would.

They sat in a little hollow two trees had created, both having grown so tall that their roots and branches had started to intertwine. While Libertus extracted the camping cooker they had taken with them out from the sled and started to melt snow in a small tinpot for their cup noodles, Nyx tried to weave the branches tighter together for a better shelter against the wind. He succeeded. More or less.

Libertus gave him his still half full thermos as he finally sat down on a thick root and stretched his legs with a quiet sigh of contentment. The crossbow he used for trips like these leaned against another root within arms reach. He watched as his hunting brother took out his flask and took a sip, and tried not to look too put out by it. It wasn't his fault that his alcohol tolerance was shit, damn it. He took a large gulp from the hot tea in his thermos.

“This is a better haul than I expected,” Nyx finally broke the silence.

In the quietness of the snow covered jungle it hadn't been wholly comfortable. Since they had managed to shoot and field dress the first hare he had had the feeling like somebody was watching him, and it vexed him that he couldn't figure out who or from where.

“The spirits are looking out for us,” answered Libertus and it even sounded halfway sincere.

Nyx made a non-committal sound and took the noodle cup from his hunting brother. The warmth from it sent a shiver up his spine. Pulling down his scarf, he took a moment to appreciate the clean and cold air. The sun was nothing more than a vague outline glimpsing through the heavy clouds.

“Have you heard anything from Crowe recently? I'm a bit worried about her having enough to survive this weather comfortably. I would invite her over but you know how Murus is.” Libertus waved his fork around as he spoke.

“Are you worried she would freeze? Because then you don't know her half as well as you thought you did, big guy,” grinned Nyx and took a mouthful of soggy noodles with _bamohn_ and seaweed flakes.

“Haha, very funny. She could claw her way through this no problem to spite every single person who hates her, but...” Libertus fell silent.

“I know,” answered Nyx, more serious this time. “You don't have to worry. She's home with me and last I saw her she was accompanying Selena to the Metal Hall.”

Libertus' heavy-set form relaxed noticeably. “That's good,” he muttered. “So is Alyxa finally letting Selena more into the business?”

“It's been a long time coming. Selena has been ready to take more responsibility for some time now, but I think _mahir_ didn't want to let her go just yet. If she'd waited much longer, I think great-aunt Briseis would've jumped into that discussion as well.”

“What changed her mind? I mean it can't just have been the threat of her Clan-Head taking an issue,” snorted Libertus.

“You would be surprised. But no. You'll have to wait until Murus starts talking.”

“Damn.”

Nyx gave a quiet laugh. Libertus' grouchy face was just too good. They finished their food and started to pack up to return to the hunting camp. It didn't quite deserve the word lodge in Nyx' opinion. He raised an amused eyebrow when Libertus stepped into the thicket surrounding them.

“Take care that little Libs doesn't freeze off!” he called after his hunting brother.

“Fuck off, Nyx!”

Nyx' grin widened as he continued to clean up their little camp. He took note of the exact location. It was a good place to rest and if you could cultivate the trees to grow just right, _ahtrii_ willing, it could even become an intermediate camp for the path around the cliffs.

Suddenly all the fine hairs all over his body rose as he felt a presence silently stepping up behind him. Every muscle in his body tensed before he forced himself to relax and slowly turn around, one hand resting on the handle of the hunting knife he wore tied to his thigh and wishing he could reach his crossbow. He froze in the middle of the motion, his knees slightly bent for better manoeuvrability, as he came face to face with a coeurl. Or rather face to chest.

The gaze from the creature’s intelligent green eyes made him feel like that desperate nine year old boy again he had been when he had last seen her. The Lady of Beasts, Queen of the Jungle.

The Great Coeurl.

Nyx forced himself to let go of the large hunting knife handle. No matter how intimidating or scary she might seem, no person on these islands would ever willingly hurt her. Her shoulder reached higher than he was tall and his gaze was drawn up and up at her flicking ears. The three horns on each side of her face gleamed.

What happened next Nyx couldn't explain even when he tried. His gaze lowered, he felt his body lower a bit more and taking a step forward. Then another and another until he could feel the heat of the body in front of him. Before he could truly realize how absolutely stupid this was and tell his body to  _ stop  _ and  _ back up _ , his head rubbed against the underside of her chin in an absolute animalistic way of greeting. If his heart didn't threaten to jump out of his chest by now he would have laughed.

He felt more than he heard her answering purr. For a moment the fear was replaced with absolute giddiness. She nosed through his hair, her warm breath smelling of raw meat and blood. Nyx felt the irrational urge to just hug her, bury his face in the soft white fur that blended in so well with the surrounding snow, and just be.

She stepped away from him causing Nyx to stumble a bit. Her steps made no sound in the snow. A sudden pang of disappointment and loss rang through his chest. What had just happened? A tiny part of him wondered if he had truly gone insane from the cold.

_ Where is Libertus? _

The sudden thought made him look towards the thicket he had vanished in. No sign of him.

An amused rumble made him twitch. Gracefully, she stretched her front-legs and flexed her claws. Damn, if it had been any other than her he would have been dead by now. How stupid. He looked down at the admonishment this clearly was. For some reason this felt like he was getting a stern talking to by his mother.

A soft meow attracted his attention. From behind the Great Coeurl's legs stumbled a kitten through the snow. It had white fur just like her, but its spots were a light ashy grey and the eyes a crystal blue. The long whiskers hadn't grown in yet and its paws and ears were disproportionately huge.

Determinedly the kitten stumbled its way through the snow and Nyx couldn't help but stare. There was a baby coeurl. A baby coeurl which their mothers were especially protective over, a hysterical part of him screamed.

What the fuck should he do?

Calling for Libertus seemed like an absolute stupid idea in this situation. He wanted to back up but his feet had decided this was a good place and time to grow roots.

He watched with wide eyes as the Great Coeurl gently picked up the kitten by the scruff of its neck and set it down in front of his feet. For a long moment he just stared as the kitten looked up at him with huge blue eyes and then proceeded to paw at his boots before headbutting them. Nyx didn't dare to move.

_ It is very cute, though _ , came another unhelpful thought.

The Great Coeurl gave an amused huff as she watched the kitten – Nyx assumed it was hers, they looked too much alike for it not to be – try to climb him like a tree. Nyx looked into her green eyes and she slowly blinked at him. That one action seemed to communicate a thousand and one different things, none of which Nyx understood.

He could do nothing but watch as she languidly turned around and walked away between the huge trees of the jungle surrounding them. After a few steps he couldn't see her any more. The kitten gave a startled meow as it tripped over its own paws and tumbled into the snow. As if his head was on a string, Nyx looked down. A she-kitten then.

The Great Coeurl had brought her to him. What was he supposed to do with her? He couldn't just bring her with him, but abandoning her was out of the question. You just didn't refuse something the spirits wanted you to do. Especially the Queen of the Jungle. Oh,  _ ahtrii _ , that meant she was his responsibility now.

Carefully, as to not startle the kitten, he bent down and picked her up. She was heavier than he thought she would be. One huge paw braced against his chest as she rubbed her head against his chin, purring all the while. A slow smile found its way on his face as he caressed her soft fur.

Heavy steps crunching in the snow sounded from his right and Libertus stepped out of the thicket, looking mighty pleased with himself as he held part of his outer coat in an improvised sack.

“Hey Nyx, you won't believe what I found. A bit further back there are _cino_ bushes that still have nuts. At first I thought an _ehrati_ was messing with me, but no. There are actual nuts growing there. Do you know how long it's been... holy shit Nyx! What did you do?”

Nyx looked at Libertus who stared at him slack jawed and wide eyed, with a demonstrative calm he didn't really feel. The kitten had stopped to rub against him and looked at the newcomer with curious eyes.

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“ You're a fucking idiot, you know that? How by all the snakes in the grass did you get a coeurl kitten without being mauled by its  _ mahir _ ?” Libertus looked at him in consideration as he inched around him and dumped the nuts into a small still unused crate on the sled.

“ Stop that thought right there, Libertus. I didn't kill her  _ mahir _ . She was given to me.”

In an irrational bout of protective instincts he pressed the kitten closer to him. She meowed questioningly.

“Given to you,” said Libertus, disbelieve clear in his voice.

“Look at her. Her fur is white, Libertus. White. How many coeurls do you know who have that colouring?”

His hunting brother stared at them. Nyx could only imagine what an image they made. The kitten was the size of a big house cat already and it was getting difficult to hold her like he did now.

“Fine. Just... keep an eye on her, all right?”

Nyx smiled in thanks and set the kitten down, much to her displeasure. “Now show me those nuts. Maybe there are enough of them to last us a while,” he said and stepped towards Libertus, mindful of the kitten that tried to slink between his feet.

When they finally went to sleep that night Nyx was more exhausted than he thought he would be. They had made it back to their main camp fast enough to properly skin the hares and pluck the chickatrices, and preserve them in crates filled with snow and ice. Looking after a coeurl kitten while doing so had been like looking after an energetic toddler. It nearly drove Nyx to do something desperate – like sit on her – the fifth time she had tried to steal the hare he had been skinning.

At the end of his rope, he had put her into one of the empty crates they had brought to transport their prey in with a bit of cut up chickatrice meat, much to Libertus' amusement. In the end she had stayed there quite happily for some time until she had started to whine, demanding cuddles.

Now he lay on his cot in the dark and tried to sleep with the heavy weight of coeurl kitten curled against him and half on his chest. Libertus had given him a strange look, but hadn't said anything when she had climbed all over him after he had lain down.

Unconsciously one hand came to rest protectively against soft white and grey spotted fur. Within moments he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nyx has a kid now! Hehehe. And since Nyx lives in a village: oh, the rumors! I'm totally not trying to be mean, what are you talking about?  
> Also Libs will never live it down that he went to relieve himself when all the exciting stuff went down ;)  
> I couldn't resist the call of the cup noodle. Lol. Cup noodles aren't afraid to treat on unknown ground. (Read: the "barbarian" realm that is Galahd)
> 
> Thank you all for reading. Until the next chapter!


End file.
